Sifting

But as for you, continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, 

Knowing from whom you have learned it...

-2 Timothy 3: 14

This has been happening to me a lot lately.  When I sit down on Monday to read the Revised Common Lectionary passages for the coming Sunday, there is one that I think, "no way, not that one." But by Wednesday I have realized that the very one I wanted to stay away from is the one the Spirit is pushing me towards.  I've started too many sermons in the past month with that little trope though, so I'm getting it out of the way here on Wednesday, hoping that I will be able to clear the deck of old baggage and really deal with this passage with fresh eyes and a new heart.

So, on to the baggage. I strongly identify with Timothy, I may not exactly be the youngest of the young, but for a good while, when I first started ordained ministry, I was the youngest minister in whatever group I was a part of.  I actually felt a bit of relief when, after about three or four years of that, a couple younger folk arrived in my Presbytery, so I didn't have to be the baby anymore.  I also identify with Timothy because I have been blessed with several wise mentors to teach me the ropes of this peculiar vocation.  

It starts with my Dad, I grew up as the son of a Pastor.  But my Dad was always the kind of person that would inspire my peers to say, "he doesn't really seem like a normal Pastor."  I heard that a lot, but since he was my primary frame of reference I didn't really know what that meant. I do now though, because I have seen a lot of "normal pastors." I think what was meant by that was essentially people who are so preoccupied with their religiosity that they neglect their humanity.  In other words, they don't keep it real.  I get why it happens, it's a defense mechanism, you put up a persona instead of your true self. Being real with people makes you vulnerable.  When they criticize and/or attack you they're not just taking down some false front you've constructed, they're actually ripping you.  Paul is trying to coach young Timothy through such a situation, to paraphrase: Hold on to who you are and remember who you have learned from.

I was fortunate to have two mentors in Seminary: David McFarlane, a diminutive Scot with impressively expressive eyebrows (they would make Peter Capaldi proud).  Who used a very Doctor Who-esque approach to disarm and counter the rather uptight, wealthy, congregation of The Presbyterian Church, Sewickley.  David insisted that the tall steeple and trappings of wealth would not change him or intimidate him.  He drove out of Sewickley (a town with a Bentley Dealership), in the same beat up red Honda Civic that he arrived in.  I owe to David an appreciation of Jonathan Edwards and a better understanding of the politics of wealth and power, as well as an appreciation for Planned Parenthood (an organization I had vilified in my own mind).  His good nature and kind liberalism started to crack the ice of a rather rigid dogmatist in the making. I think, I hope, he got to me in time.

By the time David and I parted ways, we were both fairly sure that my pastoral life would probably not lead me into a large corporate church like Sewickley.  I don't remember the exact wording of his advice, but it was something along the lines of: "If you're ever going to try to lead a congregation like this, let it be when you are old enough to retire in peace if, or rather when it starts to eat your soul."

With that experience tucked into my pocket, I moved a bit north to work with Rev. Dr. W. James Legge, who the first time I met him looked exactly like Santa Claus, if Santa Claus was a priest.  Jim has been the Pastor at a congregation that was much more like the ones I would realistically serve, for a really long time.  He was the master of "do as I say, not as I do." He helped me get my hands in to the dirt of ministry in a way that simply would not have been possible in Sewickley.  He showed me that often you have to carve out your own way and do things according to your gifts, not the gifts that other people think you ought to have.

With Dad, David, and Jim, not to mention some really good Seminary Professors in my corner, I thought I was ready to do this thing.  But, as it turns out, there is nothing quite like having to run your own circus to find all the pitfalls.  And so the Spirit gave me a friend and colleague in my first call, another absurdly long-tenured Presbyterian in the next town over, Bruce Shannon.  Bruce and I worked together on everything from a cooperative youth program to Presbytery council right up until I left Western PA and he retired a few months apart.  I can't even begin to number the times that I leaned on his experience, and bent his ear about some little nonsense.  I probably ignored  and neglected enough good advice from him to fill a decent size book. What advice I did take saved my bacon. Bruce and I had nearly a decade of working together and I'm pretty sure that without his friendship and wisdom, things might have gone very differently for me.

I needed to be reminded of "whom I have learned it." That's what today was all about.  I've got more baggage in the later parts of the text from 2 Timothy, but as it turns out, I only got through the first verse.  I've got some more sifting to do, or this is going to be a long sermon.